


Project: Delphi

by Mischieftess



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Lena Luthor Finds Out Kara Danvers is Supergirl, Lena Luthor is a gay genius, Lena has plans. Yeah she's a planner., Oh wait, Science! FTW, is that smut?, smut AND feels?, these gays just speak to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-07 03:16:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14662170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mischieftess/pseuds/Mischieftess
Summary: Lena thinks she knows. She really does, in her heart of hearts. She feels it with every breath they take in the same room, every time their eyes meet, every time a hand brushes hers or carries her…she shivers at the thought. Every time she feels the body heat radiating out at least a foot past broad shoulders and strong thighs. Every time one or the other does something that just seems so unusual, yet so familiar. Every time there are similarly crinkled brows, or pouting lips, or fierce declarative statements of loyalty and trust.[...]Lena’s null hypothesis is that her gut feeling is wrong, that Supergirl doesn’t wear glasses and cardigans, that she doesn't befriend lonely CEOs, and Lena is going to accumulate enough data to support or discard it. Afterwards, she supposes she’ll decide what to do. She wants…she can’t let herself even think about what she wants, cares too much to let these thoughts swirl around her brain and bias her investigation.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't take place in a specific time, but it's probably after the conclusion of season 2. Enjoy!

Lena sits in the dark. She had taken every precaution, every security measure, yet somehow still feels most comfortable when the only lights bathing her keyboard are from the screen and the dim reflections of National City through the windows of her penthouse.  _Working under the cover of darkness,_ she thinks,  _is a very metaphorical approach to clandestine behavior._ She connects her peripherals, all archaic input-output devices without a jot of memory or storage, into the homemade powerhouse.

She pauses.

Lena thinks she knows. She really does, in her heart of hearts. She feels it with every breath they take in the same room, every time their eyes meet, every time a hand brushes hers or carries her…she shivers at the thought. Every time she feels the body heat radiating out at least a foot past broad shoulders and strong thighs. Every time one or the other does something that just seems so unusual, yet so familiar. Every time there are similarly crinkled brows, pouting lips, or fierce declarative statements of loyalty and trust.

Lena Luthor is a scientist, an engineer. She’s been trained in null hypotheses, power analysis  _\- hah,_ she thinks, _power analysis, that’s a good one –_  and p-values, since she was young and reckless, a new escapee from the cold Luther mansion, with its cold stepmother, in college and then graduate school. Lex… She pauses at the thought of her brother, the pain, and pushes forward again. Lex reinforced every scientific principle, supported every step Lena made that was calculated and measured and weighed against evidence and reason.  _Until he didn’t._

Lex’s actions had disproven her null hypothesis, that he was the brother she had always known. She knew, had catalogued, the qualitative, quantitative data ( _god, quantitative, hundreds dead, thousands injured, how could her supportive, bright brother have done this evil?_ ) and stacked it in columns until her hands shook and she couldn’t go on, couldn’t support the legacy of such evil, couldn’t stay in that city or keep that name on her company one moment longer.

Now, faced with another question that burns in her chest, she needs facts, she needs data, she needs to  _know_. Lena’s null hypothesis is that her gut feeling is wrong, that Supergirl doesn’t wear glasses and cardigans and befriend lonely CEOs, and she’s going to accumulate enough data to support or discard it. Afterwards, she supposes she’ll decide what to do. She wants…she can’t let herself even think about what she wants, cares too much to let these thoughts swirl around her brain and bias her investigation.

Lena thinks about the whiskey in her kitchen cabinets, how the oversized ice cubes would clink against cut crystal as she brings the glass to her lips. How the cool, burning rush would rise into her sinuses and warm her throat, how it would soothe her nerves and dull her senses. She shuts the distraction, the delay, down. She needs every scrap of sobriety for her purpose. Lena is a scientist, and this is just another experiment. It has to be.

She feels the tension rising in her shoulders, the prickle of little hairs on the back of her neck, as she clicks the icon, “Alexandria.”

 

 

This particular computer had been constructed from parts sourced from online shops, purchased with the visa cards she bought with cash at the big box store checkout line, and delivered to a P.O. box. Lena had disassembled, inspected, and finally discarded or integrated her purchases into a compact wonderbox, capable of running the pirated coding programs she needed to make her idea a reality. She named it Delphi.

The first runtimes she designed from scratch on this isolated, clean platform were intended for simple reconnaissance. She built a thumb drive with the abilities to copy the state of any computer, replace the OS with its own, run her search and acquisition protocols, then wipe the host computer with a write-over protocol before restoring the starting state.

On the day she had designated to start her search, Lena had popped out the flash drive, donned her disguise, and hidden Delphi in the lead-lined cubby she’d personally installed in her lead-painted, reinforced bedroom walls.

Thick glasses -  _ironically, if she was right…no, if her null hypothesis was wrong_  - and a hoodie pulled forward over her messy ponytail had hidden most of Lena’s features from the occupants of the grimy internet café as she plugged in. She had watched as the screen flickered and presented her own design before she got to work. One of her search items was laughably easy – the name, iconic heraldry, and public nature of her target made the data, mostly images with some video, practically flood into her secure storage while she pretended to be engrossed with youtube videos.

The next task had been more difficult, as much of the data she required was locked behind the firewalls of the government and private industry. Lena had routed this query through as many VPNs and backdoors as she could muster (a lot). The government proper had been, unsurprisingly, the easiest, and the DEO the most challenging. Curiously, CatCo had been only slightly behind the DEO in security; but, since their systems had been remarkably (and also suspiciously) similar, it had taken only moments for Lena to adapt her strategies and get through. Social media had been a joke, as always. Google drive and similar cloud storage devices were an easy hack as well.

She had added her own files later, of course. Although the Luthors had drilled security and privacy training into Lena from an early age, there was always a difference between institutional and personal recording. Of course, Watergate influenced L Corp security policy. L-Corp security had no audio or visual recording devices anywhere that real business was done. But that did not mean there weren’t any.

Lena had personally acquired, installed, and concealed cameras in all un-monitored areas of L-Corp (except the toilets, there was security and then there was intrusive paranoia). Video was only recorded when she told it to record, and the encrypted files were all backed up via fiber optics to her personal cache. None of it was ever networked and her cache would fry itself and any computer it was plugged into – except her offline constructs with the right connection scheme, of course.

The same scheme of secret surveillance was in place within Lena’s penthouse – she had records of every intruder into her sanctum, which is how she knows that the DEO (ft. Alex Danvers, of course) has searched it, without her permission or a warrant that she could find, five times since she arrived in National City. They had even tried to bug her, which was a gift as it gave her devices a direct line to DEO HQ, but after the second time she deactivated their bugs they did not return.

The DEO’s most powerful investigative tool, however, had never been there – or at least, caught on camera – without Lena’s presence. That was fortunate, since Lena would be hard-pressed to explain the thin layers of lead paint coating every wall, ceiling, hidden cubby, and even some items of furniture. It wasn’t a complete mask, but enough to make finding her personal modifications to the space nearly impossible for someone with X-ray vision. And, if Lena was honest, it was reassuring for another, closely-held reason that she definitely needed to avoid thinking about lest it bias her experiment.

Fortunately, most tech CEOs were business people, not PhD engineers with a computing bent. For instance, Maxwell Lord had cameras in his offices -  _and bathrooms, that creep_  - that were offline too – but the idiot viewed them on his home computer. Lena was quietly developing a little worm to erase everything that piece of trash had ever recorded (except the bathroom photos – those she would block from deletion before she emailed them from his account to the police) and burn out his tech to boot.

 

 

Still in her dim apartment, Lena pulls up her first database item through the Alexandria interface. The millions of cellphone, TV, newspaper, and privately-held records flicker by as her program scans, characterizes, and integrates them into a comprehensive, three-dimensional recreation. Some are discarded by the algorithm she had trained with confirmed, genuine images, and Lena idly clicks through the growing pile as she waits.

Blurry or mis-tagged images are mixed in with cosplayers, little kids in adorable costumes, an entire drag show in fantastic wigs and makeup.  _Honestly_ , Lena thinks,  _the drag show participants have the most convincing musculature of any mimic I’ve seen. Honestly,_ a little, sarcastic corner of her mind continues,  _the muscles, especially that ass, are a quarter of how you figured it out in the first place._  Lena has already attributed percentages to the pieces of this puzzle that gave her these suspicions, of course, if only in her own mind.

Looking up at her brightening apartment, Lena sighs. Alexandria will be compiling all day, and the sun is rising. She unplugs Delphi from all peripherals, checking that the fans to the outside are running and the battery shows a full charge before she shuts the lid of the modified briefcase, snapping the locks shut.

 

 

At lunchtime, the single blue light on Lena’s desk panel blinks softly, her early warning from Jess only moments before Kara blows in with two loaded carry-out bags. Lena feels like her own smile is visible from space, and although the niggling apprehension in the back of her mind warns her to draw back, be aloof, be a professional, she can’t help the words that rise to her lips.

“Kara, how lovely to see you, how did you know I was free for lunch?”

 Kara’s grin is similarly wide and free as she swings the bags, ducking her head a little. “How did  _you_  know I have lunch in these bags? They could be full of, well, anything else.” The reporter blushes a little at Lena’s laugh. “Ok, ok, yes they’re full of lunch but my source is confidential and, between you and me, rather flighty.”

Lena leans forward over her desk, feeling like a predatory cat as she watches Kara pause on her journey to the couch. Blue eyes flick down, then up, and a cherry blush creeps up Kara’s neck as she plops down the bags.

Lena thinks,  _Ooh she’s gonna adjust her glasses…there she goes. God why doesn’t that ever stop being cute?_

“Flighty, huh? Is that code for a little bird told you?” Lena straightens and crooks a brow, the look she practiced for hours and hours during long nights in her college lab. It’s effective. Kara plops down on the couch and busies herself with the foam packages, but the blush is still rising and has reached the tips of her ears.

“Maaaaybe,” Kara hedges, then lays out food. As usual, Lena’s spring rolls and pho take up only a minor portion of the complete delivery.

Lena struts over, proud of the way Kara’s eyes dart back over and stay, stuck, until Lena settles on her own side of the couch.

“Well,” Lena says, smiling as she reaches for the chopsticks, “whoever it may be, they must be a very reliable source to get it this right.”

Kara’s answering grin feels like sunrise.

Lena ignores the lurch in her gut and shreds her Thai basil over the soup with her manicured nails.

 

 

By late evening, Lena has gotten back in her apartment, taken off her shoes, makeup, contacts, and jewelry, and changed into her houseclothes before she curls into a chair. Delphi sits open on the coffee table, its integrated monitor flaring to life in the dark room. She inputs code after code, interspersed with her fingerprints, retinal scan, and even her big toe print, in a memorized sequence that has no prompts or fallback solution. Either she enters the correct sequence or everything self-destructs.

Lena clenches her jaw. The “Analysis Complete” button taunts her, patiently blinking as her finger hovers over the mouse. She clicks.

The 3-D rendering is complete, pristine, undeniable. She zooms in, wanting to see it with her own eyes before she ruins the magic with her relentless need for study. There, is the little scar. There the nose, the lips, the eyes she knows so well. Her breath catches and she has to look away. It’s so clear, as clear as the lenses she looks through almost every day to see those eyes.

She minimizes the display and sighs, rubbing her eyes behind her glasses. The blurry haze clears a little and she wipes the dampness on her sweatpants, refusing to think about it. It’s time for phase two of her study. She accesses the folder full of surveillance, employee records, social media, conspiracy theories, and other images of people, from all over the world, and hits “Compare.”

Then she closes Delphi to run for the night, stands up, and finally gives into the urge to seek out her liquor cabinet.

 

 

Lena doesn’t think that just anyone else can do what she is doing, but a team of geniuses? Absolutely, they could absolutely be doing this same thing, with the same success rate. So, she has been composing a response for weeks now, going over everything she knows about surveillance and photography.

It will have to be foolproof, or, well. Geniusproof. It will have to be definitive, unassailable, undetectable. It will have to run underneath every possible countermeasure, every bit of tech. It will have to be ubiquitous, constitutively working its magic.

She justifies it to herself in many ways. It’s just another facet of her obsession, it’ll make National City, the country, the world safer. But that’s not true – it’s all about one person, and the secret they carry so close to their chest.

She names it Hermes for the winged liar that occupies her thoughts and dreams.

 

 

Three days after Delphi gives her the matches, she texts Kara.

 

* * *

 

Contact:  **It’sa me! Kara Danvers! :D <3**

 

Kara, I have something Supergirl needs to see.

Would you please get in touch with her and ask

 her to come by my apartment tonight at 10?

Ok, I’ll let her know. Is everything ok?

Yes, I think so. Thank you!

No problem! :) :)

* * *

 

Sometimes, Supergirl drops onto Lena’s balconies with a thud, especially if she needs Lena’s attention right away. When summoned, she barely makes a whisper of sound. When she is in a rush, she’ll just charge right in (though that only seems to happen in Lena’s office), but if she is unsure, she taps politely on the glass. Lena isn’t sure if the superhero realizes what she does, how her behavior is modulated, but Lena notices.

Tonight, Lena is waiting on her white leather couch, still dressed up, made up, armored in her smooth, tailored wool pants and tasteful green blouse. The lights are off, as they often are lately, so Lena can clearly see the shadow that alights outside the balcony door and pauses, peering inside, before striding to tap on the glass. 

“Come in,” Lena says quietly, and she doesn’t move.

Supergirl always swishes slightly when she walks, the cape sliding smoothly when her calves brush the hem.  _What material is that? It’s heavy but so motile._  Lena catches herself diverting her focus to the cape, in self-defense from the conflict to come, and drags herself back by clearing her throat.

“Ms. Luthor, you asked to see me?” Supergirl’s voice is low, modulated to carry to Lena but no further. Lena wonders if she has had acting classes, to adapt to so many different arenas.

“Yes, please come sit with me,” Lena says, proud of how steady her voice remains.

Supergirl hesitates, then visibly girds herself with confidence and walks over. It is remarkable to Lena, in retrospect, how naturally confident Supergirl is with everybody except her.

Lena turns to the superhero and stops herself from wringing her hands together in her lap. She has practiced, has chosen her words carefully, and gets them out with little fanfare and no stuttering.

“Supergirl, I have something you need to see. It will only take a few minutes.”

Supergirl nods, visibly stiff against the lush couch, and Lena leans forward to open Delphi on the coffee table. The device is already unlocked, already showing the presentation Lena has prepared for this moment.

The 3-D reconstruction makes Supergirl gasp and lean forward, studying herself as the image rotates completely. Then, Lena taps the screen and Delphi starts flashing through match, after match, after match. Lena feels, sees from her peripheral vision, Supergirl pull back, away, pressing herself against the back of the couch, as picture after picture of blonde, blue-eyed women flicker across the screen. 27% match, 32% match, 54%, 69%. Supergirl’s breathing is harsh in the quiet apartment, like she has closed her throat against the flow of air.

Supergirl seems dumbstruck, watching the images blink by and then it stops on an image of Kara, smiling, blue eyes glinting behind thick frames. Delphi’s “84% match” pops up next to the name before dozens of other images of Kara appear, with similar match data, and Supergirl flinches as if struck. Lena turns to look at her hero in the bluish light of the screen, sees the widened pupils, the slightly opened mouth, the utter shock on her face.

Lena clears her throat again. “I canvassed every source I could imagine, from government to social media to private industry, worldwide, to find images to compare against Supergirl. And in the whole world, only 97 people matched closely enough to possibly be you. And…I know you. You are Kara Danvers.”

Lena continues, inexorably, she has a speech to deliver. “I’m…I suspected for a long time. This is just the last confirmation, the irrefutable proof.” At this, Kara’s eyes shift slowly from the screen to Lena, a pooling wetness scattering the light. Lena looks away, back at the computer and its damning evidence – if Lena sees Supergirl, Kara, her bright ray of sunshine crying, Lena will cry, and she can’t have that. Not yet.

“I’m not the only person who could ever do this, Kara. I’m probably not even the first, but I am almost certainly the best. So, I made you something.”

Lena leans forward and picks up the box she’d tucked inside Delphi’s case. She opens it and takes out the device she had perfected over many sleepless nights, tinkering in the personal lab installed in her guest bedroom (not like she’d ever had any guests). She offers it to Supergirl, to  _Kara_ , in her open palm. Her fingertips are shaking slightly, a terrible nervous tick she’d never been able to completely eradicate.

Supergirl stares at the thick-rimmed glasses in Lena’s hand, an exact copy of Kara Danvers’s glasses, lead lining and leaded crystal lenses included, then back up to Lena’s face. The confusion there is obvious, the crinkle that Lena loves etching its way across Supergirl’s forehead.

Lena buries her feelings in details. “These are better camouflage than just a pair of glasses, Kara. They will modify your appearance in any photograph, without changing your features in biological vision. Your eyes will appear more gray than blue, your hair darker, your scar will disappear. Your nose will appear slightly too large, lips not as perfectly bowed, your chin less prominent, and cheekbones slightly enhanced. You will be recognizable as yourself to people looking at you in photos, but facial recognition software will be unable to match you to Supergirl. Every image I found of you, Kara Danvers you, has been modified similarly, so no one will ever be able to identify you from them again.” 

“Why,” Kara asks, still pressed back against the couch, tears tracing shiny trails down her face to the corner of her mouth, to her jawline. “I lied to you, you should hate me, I kinda hate myself, so why…why are you doing this?” 

Lena feels her own tears welling and blinks, feeling the first warm trickle over her eyelid as one escapes.

Lena's voice is choked but still strong, still hers, for now. She has to get through this. “Because, Kara, every time you leave the ground you take my heart with you. And I can’t protect you out there, where you fight and bleed and fall to the ground. I’ve seen you almost _die_ , and I can’t do anything!” A sob escapes and Lena curses internally, fighting down the urge to fall apart. _I am the youngest CEO of a Fortune 500 company, I can do this._

“But when you are here, in my world, the world of technology and intrigue and politics, here I can help you. I can protect you in a way that no one else can. So please, let me help you.” Now Lena’s tears have crossed her chin, are dripping down her neck, are seeping into the crease of her lips.

Suddenly, there is a thumb on Lena’s cheek, smearing moisture across skin, and Kara, her Kara, stunning blue eyes unconcealed by heavy frames, is so close.

“I take your heart with me?” Kara asks, quietly, as she gently takes the glasses from Lena’s hand and sets them on the table.

Lena nods and sobs again, closing her eyes, leaning into Kara’s hand. “Yes.”

Kara’s fingertips wrap around the back of Lena’s neck, burying themselves in her hair, radiating heat, and Lena opens her eyes in time to see Kara, even closer, pale lashes fluttering as those blue eyes close.

_What?_

Their lips meet.

All intelligent thought ceases.

 _Oh_.

Kara is salty-sweet, lips soft and wet with their mixed tears. Kara smells like ozone and rainfall, tastes of sunshine over the ocean. Her shoulders are so warm against Lena’s hands through the thick material of the suit, and Lena moves forward without thinking, pours herself into Kara’s lap and kisses Kara again.

She is  _kissing_   _Kara_ , and at that belated realization Lena releases a sound of utter need into their shared air. Kara’s tongue teases across Lena’s lips and the flood of emotion, lust, need as their tongues tangle and slide past one another pulses through Lena’s body, arching her back. Kara groans and pulls Lena closer with one strong hand on Lena’s lower back.

Lena is an absolute mess, tears still streaming down her face as she straddles Kara and pushes impossibly closer still. One of Lena’s hands is tangled in Kara’s hair, the other at Kara’s jaw, feeling the firm, hot, impossibly silky-skinned reality of the woman under her fingers.

They separate, both panting against their thundering heartbeats. Lena can  _feel_  Kara’s pulse in the skin under her hand as Kara leans her forehead against Lena’s own, placing one strong hand on Lena’s breastbone.

“I leave my heart right here, with you, whenever we are apart. I love you, too, Lena.”

Lena kisses Kara, her hero, again, and again, reveling in the smell-taste-touch-sound of Kara under her, and sobs a laugh into Kara’s mouth before pulling back. 

“I’m really terribly mad at you for not telling me about Supergirl,” Lena growls tearily, watching Kara’s eyes widen.

Kara wilts a little, “I’m really sorry. Do you want to stop?”

“Don’t you dare stop, Kara. I’ll yell at you later, properly, with _diagrams_ , after I’ve shown you how much you mean to me,” Lena promises, pulling Kara back in.

Besides, Lena’s qualitative analysis of Kara’s kisses needs  _far_ more data to reach a satisfactory conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this study of a scientist in lurve. 
> 
> This is _intended_ as a one-shot, but I have some ideas. If you want to see more, you know how to reach me. (Hint: please comment!)
> 
> Teaser (AKA I am not good at staying away from smut and/or dirty talk):
> 
> "You're going to have to sign some forms at the DEO, now that you know I'm...me," Kara says, fiddling with the corner of her cape.
> 
> "Oh? What kind of forms? Is there a 'gets to see Supergirl shirtless' form? Because if so, I am all in," Lena drawls, feeling all kinds of salacious joy at Kara's blush. She decides to push it a little further.
> 
> "Or perhaps," Lena goes on, "there's a 'bites Supergirl's nipple' form? Or a 'lets Supergirl come in her mouth' NDA?"
> 
> Kara gawks at her, face matching her cape.
> 
> "Oh yes," Lena concludes, "these forms sound quite fun. Can Alex please be in the room when I ask to sign them?"
> 
> "Lena!" Kara is almost choking with…Lena thinks it's about 20% shame, 60% arousal, and 20% other. "Alex has LOTS of guns."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena’s threat of diagrams must be especially chilling, because Kara doesn’t give Lena a second to rethink anything.
> 
> When Lena pulls Kara back in, crushing their lips together, Kara doesn't hesitate to bite Lena’s lip, holding it between her teeth as she flicks it with her tongue. Lena melts. Literally. She can feel how much she’s melted into her panties and beyond. After all, Lena can talk a big game about being a rake in college all she wants, but when it comes to straddling the muscular goddess with a heart of golden, frosted pastry who she’s been pining after for months, Lena knows she’s completely, utterly, p ≤ 0.05 ready to feel Kara absolutely everywhere. And, _god_ , Lena can’t believe that she has been missing out on this for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our fine ladies are (really horny) adults who can think through their (horny) problems and come to functional solutions. Aren't they amazing(ly horny)?

Lena’s threat of diagrams must be especially chilling, because Kara doesn’t give Lena a second to rethink anything.

When Lena pulls Kara back in, crushing their lips together, Kara doesn't hesitate to bite Lena’s lip, holding it between her teeth as she flicks it with her tongue. Lena melts. Literally. She can feel how much she’s melted into her panties and beyond. After all, Lena can talk a big game about being a rake in college all she wants, but when it comes to straddling the muscular goddess with a heart of golden, frosted pastry who she’s been pining after for months, Lena knows she’s completely, utterly, p ≤ 0.05 ready to feel Kara absolutely everywhere. And, _god_ , Lena can’t believe that she has been missing out on this for so long.

Kara, too, seems eager to continue. One hand migrates to Lena’s ass, kneading through thin cloth with just the right pressure as she uses her grasp to pull Lena in, their closeness forcing Lena’s thighs farther apart around Kara’s waist. Lena tries desperately not to grind against Kara’s abs like a hormonal teenager, but then Kara’s other hand is slipping down to Lena’s side, pulling Lena’s shirt out of her slacks and dipping underneath to graze the skin at Lena’s waist. Lena’s moan is embarrassingly loud but, as her head tilts back and Kara begins kissing and scraping her teeth along Lena’s jaw, then her throat, she can’t seem to stop making desperate, surprised sounds that bounce off the high ceiling of her apartment.

Lena feels powerful, somehow, as her body shivers and arches under the borderline-rough pressure of fingers that can bend steel…no. Fingers that can _puncture_ steel, knuckles that can shatter granite, wrists that can carry an airplane, arms that can and _have_ carried Lena to safety through fire and air and disaster, again and again.

Lena knows, on an almost subconscious level, that Kara is reading Lena’s every reaction, giving Lena more of what she likes. To have Kara care so much that, although she could snap Lena’s spine with barely a touch, she chooses to alternately dance fingertips over skin ever so lightly then dig in to squeeze until Lena’s brain seems to shiver in her skull? It’s intoxicating.

 _Fuck restraint_ , she thinks.

Lena’s overwhelmed senses finally activate her instincts, sending her hands searching for more contact. She finds it at Kara’s neck and shoulder, curving around under the cape to dive under the suit at Kara’s upper back, dragging herself closer in a move that rubs her whole groin sinfully against Kara and pushes her neck even closer to Kara’s mouth, which is concentrating with hot, wet enthusiasm on Lena’s pulse point. Lena’s nipples are tingling, tightening against the inside of her bra as they are teased by the way Lena's shirt brushes against Kara’s suit and crest.

Lena can hear her own voice escalating, volume and pitch rising with the tension coiling in her gut, and as Kara’s pleased growl vibrates against her skin Lena rolls her hips forward again, desperate for friction. This time Kara’s hands on her ass, one outside her pants and the other sliding inside against skin, conspire with Lena’s movement to lift and pull Lena inches farther up Kara’s belly, rubbing Lena’s aching pussy against the seam of her own pants as she bumps over the ridges of the Super suit’s belt. Lena gasps and helplessly does it again, almost shouting when Kara bites down on her collarbone at the apex of the movement. 

Lena can smell the air growing heavy with the scent of her own dripping desire, and she needs Kara to be just as helplessly aroused as she feels. In retaliation for the fact that it’s mostly Lena who is falling apart, Lena reaches back behind herself, along the inside of Kara’s thigh, to rest where skin is only covered by sheer tights. Then she digs in and rakes her nails up Kara’s thigh, skating along the thin cloth, and grins at Kara’s reactionary squeak as the body under Lena’s thighs shudders and tenses.

Lena threads her fingers into Kara’s hair, pulling up to catch Kara’s lips in a harder, hotter kiss. Kara tastes a little stronger, somehow earthier, as Lena licks and coaxes her way into Kara’s mouth. She bites Kara’s lip and pulls back, tasting the tang of her own lipstick as her teeth graze along the skin. She glories in the puff of Kara’s breath as it comes out with a moan and then Lena jerks with pleasure at the sudden squeezing pressure of Kara’s fingertips imprinting bruises on her ass cheeks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Bzzzt.**

 

They both freeze. It must be Kara’s phone, Lena realizes, as Lena can feel the vibration lightly radiating up one of Kara’s legs. _Fuck,_ she thinks.

Kara stops their kiss, stops pulling Lena toward her, and huffs slightly. Lena’s body is still buzzing with what she thinks is probably adrenaline and oxytocin, but her mind is clearing slightly.

 

 **Bzzzt.** It rings again.

 

Lena wants to pull Kara back in. She wants to drag Kara off to the bedroom and rip every stitch of cloth off the musclebound body she’s only felt, but never seen. She wants to throw up her hands and ask the ceiling ‘what now?’

Instead, Lena lassos her inner drama queen and retreats inside herself slightly, like a hermit crab that sees a suspicious shadow. She looks at Kara, gorgeous, kind, loving, sexy Kara with her still-closed eyes and her kiss-swollen lips, mouth smeared with Lena’s bright red lipstick, and Lena wants to stay here forever.

Alas, the world…

 

**Bzzzt.**

 

“Do you,” Lena’s voice is low, throaty, almost unrecognizable. She pauses in surprise for a second before continuing, “Kara, do you need to get that?”

Kara huffs again and nods, opening her eyes. Lena is transfixed by those eyes, so dark with their pupils blown wide open until the dark, dark blue irises are but a narrow band.

 _Oh,_ Lena thinks with a flash of proud warmth, _I did that._

She struggles briefly, again, with the urge to seduce Kara, drag her away from her duties and off to a warm, soft bed where the world won’t intrude.

**Bzzzt.**

Kara somehow manages to simultaneously look resigned but recalcitrant, like a police dog summoned back to duty from the dog park.

“It’s the official phone. Sorry, Lena, I asked for some free time tonight, but if they’re calling anyway it’s likely important.” Kara’s voice is deeper, also, and she clears her throat.

Lena kisses Kara’s cheek, admiring the lipstick print, cherishing the simple, brand-new intimacy of the action. _I get to do this now._

“Go ahead and get it. Do you need privacy?” Lena starts to back away, but the hand inside her pants squeezes, keeping Lena straddling those strong thighs as Kara’s eyes meet hers. 

 

**Bzzzt.**

 

“No, I can answer here,” Kara says, the quirk of a smile on her lips at whatever she sees in Lena’s face as that wicked hand massages Lena again. Lena swallows and stays. 

Kara leans forward, holding Lena steady in her lap as she grabs the phone out of the top of one of her boots and puts it up to her ear before leaning against the back of the couch.

 

“Hi, Alex.“ 

**“Hey, are you at home?”**

Lena can hear Alex loud and clear on the line, but Kara doesn’t seem to care. So, Lena simply stays, trailing curious fingers lightly over the neckline of Kara’s suit, shivering at the feel of Kara’s hand casually exploring her ass cheek, alternately tapping and dragging nails lightly against her skin.

“No, I’m in the city.”

**“Patrolling?”**

“Yeah,” Kara’s hand squeezes a little at the lie, her eyes never leaving Lena’s face.

Lena feels faintly hurt that Kara doesn’t want to admit to their sudden...what? Meeting of minds? _Meeting of bodies, too._ But, well, it was sudden, and new, and terribly precious. The lie makes complete sense, and she’d likely do the same. In fact, she knows she’d do the same, if someone called her right now. In light of that, Lena takes care to soothe her own ruffled feathers as she watches Kara’s bright eyes, fascinated by the sight of her pupils slowly constricting back to normal. 

 _Besides,_ Lena thinks, _Alex really doesn’t need to know what we were doing just now. That’s too much information for any sibling._

The pang at the thought of ‘sibling’ is something Lena quickly shoves off to a corner of her mind to deal with later.

**“What about your meeting with Lena, what happened?”**

“Oh, it went fine.” Kara smiles more broadly, her eyes crinkling at Lena.

Lena crooks an eyebrow. She looks Kara up and down and smirks back, dragging a single fingernail along Kara’s collarbone to the edge of her suit, relishing the little shiver and pulsing squeeze that results. _Fine isn’t the half of it_ , she thinks. Yes, she’s feeling rather self-satisfied at the moment, despite the interruption.

Alex seems to catch something in Kara’s phrasing. **“Fine, huh? Nothing is ever ‘fine’ with you when it comes to Lena, Kara. You’re always over the moon when you see her as Kara and devastated when you see her as Supergirl. Is ‘fine’ some kind of code?”**

Lena stops her teasing strokes, growing slightly concerned. _What did Alex mean?_

Kara rolls her eyes, grimacing at Lena in what could be apology. No squeeze this time, and her hand leaves Lena’s pants to slide up the back of Lena’s shirt. “Yeah, it _was_ fine, and no, that isn’t code for anything.”

Kara pulls Lena into her chest, her arm a reassuring weight on Lena’s shoulders as it holds them close. Lena, slightly mollified by the obvious hug, takes the opportunity to nuzzle into the other side of Kara’s neck and smell that ozone and sunlight freshness, mixed with the lingering scents of floral shampoo.

Alex still isn’t buying it. **“Suuuure.”**

Kara’s voice is a rumble against Lena’s chest. “Alex, do you have a real reason for calling or should I hang up on you?”

 **“Yeah, we’ve got an op that could use your assistance. Hostage situation, alien weapons used against the first cops on scene, DEO enroute, ETA…”** There’s a pause, then Alex continues, **“11 minutes. I’m coming from my place. Meet us at National City Bank on Sunset?”**

Kara’s whole body comes to attention under Lena at the news, her former softness erased in moments as muscle shifts under her skin. Lena’s own body tenses still further at the feeling in a much, much different way.

Kara seems oblivious to the rekindled warmth in Lena’s gut as she replies, “Yeah, I’m on my way. I’ll give you a sitrep from the air when I arrive. Is Maggie ok?” 

**“Yeah, she’s with me. She says hi. See you soon.”**

 

As soon as Kara hangs up, she drops the phone to the couch and holds Lena to her with both arms. “Sorry, Lena,” Kara hums into Lena’s ear, “I’ve got to go. But first, about the stuff Alex said…You’ve stolen my guilty secret right from under me, so I don’t think Supergirl will be feeling bad after seeing you anymore. So, thank you, for giving me the gift of loving every minute with you from now on, whether I’m wearing the suit or not.”

The creeping doubt that Lena had barely noticed under the flare of her libido washes away at Kara’s words. She hugs back, then pushes away a little with a smile that she’s almost positive is dopey from the hormones still raging in her system.

Lena says, “Go on. We still have a lot to…discuss, but, after the discussions we’ve already had, I think I’m interested in signing on to the whole package, Supergirl. Can you come back tonight?”

Kara’s expression brightens, and she says, “Yes!” with a flash of giddy excitement in her eyes. “I’ll be back tonight, if I can. If I can’t, want me to come over tomorrow morning?”

“That sounds wonderful, I have stuff for enough blueberry pancakes to feed an army,” Lena says. The big grin and widened eyes Kara makes in response send Lena chuckling.

Kara’s grin morphs to a smirk as she abruptly stands up, supportive hands cradling Lena’s ass. Lena squeaks a little, surprised, as she rises into the air, and then she flushes with embarrassment at the noise she made. Kara just chuckles at her and kisses her nose, letting Lena swing her feet down to the carpet and stand on shaky knees.

Then the hero scoops up her new glasses with a wink to Lena and strides off, tucking them away somewhere and shoving her phone back down into its boot compartment. She’s so preoccupied with wrangling the device (and, likely, still feeling the same hormonal unsteadiness that has Lena sinking down to the couch) that she walks straight into Lena’s balcony door with a resounding **BONK** and a suspicious crackle.

Lena snickers, stifling the noise in her hand as Kara turns wounded eyes back to her. Kara tries to salvage her dignity by pulling the door dramatically open, only to have the whole thing suddenly shatter at this last insult, raining shards of glass all over Kara’s head and shoulders. She stands there, holding the door handle with its lone chunk of glass, and Lena lets go and _howls_ with laughter.

Oh, it’s so good to know that the clumsy, adorably awkward Kara she knows and loves is still lurking underneath this suave, romantic Kara with searing kisses and sweet words and absolutely _wicked_ hands. Who, of course, Lena also loves.

Kara hesitates, clearly ashamed and torn, “Oh Rao, Lena, I’m so sorry, I’ll replace it, but I’ve got to go and I don’t want to leave you to clean this up, but, well.”

Lena wrestles her punch-drunk laughter down, waving a hand to shoo Kara onward, “It’s fine, I’ve broken glass before and know what to do. Go save lives, Supergirl.”

With a whoosh, Kara is gone.

Lena wonders when Kara will realize that she took the handle and its door fragment with her. Nevermind the lipstick stains…

Lena snickers to herself and goes to find her cleaning supplies.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Lena doesn’t think for a full, blissful half-hour of hard work.  

In a flurry of activity, she changes into comfy clothes, discarding her soaked panties and grimacing at the (very impressive: remember to rehydrate) stain she’s left on her pants before throwing it into the dry-cleaning hamper. Then she sweeps and vacuums up all of the shattered glass, scanning the floor with a very bright flashlight held parallel at floor level to pick up stray shards (Lena has had her share of laboratory ~~explosions~~ incidents, and, since she hasn’t let a single housekeeper enter her home since the first assassins sent by Lex, she has acquired previously unknown cleaning skills). Satisfied, Lena inspects the soles of her shoes before kicking them off to leave them by the balcony just in case they’re carrying glass stowaways. She puts her tools away, then walks back into the living room.

 

Introspection is waiting, of course, ready to pounce on her unoccupied mind. 

There’s always an undercurrent of worry that siphons Lena’s equanimity whenever Kara runs off on Supergirl work. She’s seen enough to know that not every mission is dangerous, and Kara has always bounced back even when things seemed dire. But, especially when Kara leaves Lena’s side (with absolutely terrible excuses that she supposes will end, now) to go off and throw herself in harm’s way, there’s this feeling of missed opportunities or lost potential that, generally, drives Lena to her work with a single-minded determination to distract herself. To ignore the fact that someday Kara, veins glowing sickly green with Kryptonite, might fall out of the sky and never get back up. This time is no different, and the presence of alien weapons could mean anything from interstellar thugs to Cadmus.

But that’s not what has Lena leaning on the back of her couch, staring blankly at Delphi as its fans softly buzz and the screensaver morphs smoothly between colorful geometric forms. Not entirely. It plays a part, but she is used to it, and there’s something much bigger on her mind.

Lena is shocked at what just happened. In the moment, accepting Kara’s enthusiastic, reciprocated affection felt like the only thing she had ever wanted. It still makes her warm, still gives her little flutters in her belly, still makes her want to smile and possibly do a victory dance where no one can see her fist-pump and/or dab (she admits nothing).

 

But also, here in her apartment, alone, she can’t prevent her mind from doing what it does best: troubleshooting. 

And this is some kind of trouble, no doubt about it.

Everything Lena did to get to this point – the programs, the searches, the safety check after safety check, the protective devices, the secret, private meeting – they had all been intended to achieve a very precise and regimented series of goals.

Her agenda for the evening was written out in two text files on Delphi’s hard drive: one simplified with talking points and predicted time-frames, and one annotated with potential avenues of digression and solutions to get back on track. Lena had edited it seven times in the past three days and had been rather pleased with it. Little did she know that Kara would have a completely different reaction than any Lena expected.

 

Project: Delphi – Edited Agenda

 

  1. Supergirl will arrive at approx. 10 pm. Be prepared by 9 pm, allow 2 hours of flexibility before locking balcony, leave text message tone on in case of emergency cancellation.
  2. Inform Supergirl, through Delphi’s programs, that I know about her real identity. Powerpoint: 5 min.
  3. Present Supergirl with Hermes Mk.I and explain its purpose, capabilities, care, and maintenance. ~~Absolutely no crying.~~ 10-15 min
  4. Persuasively and assertively ~~(no crying!)~~ convince Supergirl that: 
    1. I am not ~~very~~ angry (lie convincingly) about the long-running deception ~~in light of our long and close friendship~~. ≤ 15 min, depending on how Supergirl feels.
    2. I will not do anything to hurt Supergirl, her family, the DEO, or aliens (be absolutely honest). ≤ 15 min, depending on how much Supergirl trusts me.
  5. Use ~~all~~ most powers of persuasion (seduction is **not** on the table) to convince Supergirl to let me help, both with updates to Hermes and, possibly, through contact and contract with the DEO. ≤ 15 min
  6. Close the conversation with the strong recommendation that we stay friends, due to mutually-agreeable past social interactions ~~and how much I’d miss her if we don't stay friends.~~ ≤ 10 min.
  7. ~~Offer Supergirl celebratory ice cream and ask her to stay the night.~~



 

In retrospect, Lena's night had gone completely off the rails. For one thing, crying was expressly prohibited. That was her first mistake, not predicting that Kara would cry and thus the inevitable effect that Lena would start weeping too. Damn her sympathetic tear ducts. But there were so many more errors in her pre-assessment.

She didn’t predict that Kara would compile everything Lena had done for Kara’s safety, happiness, and everyday existence and make the intuitive leap to deduce that Lena is in love with Kara. That was supposed to be a secret, one that Lena keeps almost as closely-held as Kara’s own. After that, nothing could possibly go according to plan.

Being kissed by Kara? Not on the agenda.

Kara telling Lena “I love you too” followed by a very thorough make-out session? Not even dreamed-of.

Lena telling Kara about her anger? Specifically forbidden by the agenda.

Kara taking the initiative to blow Lena’s mind and body wide open with desire? Almost ridiculously unlikely.

Kara leaving before discussing more than two of Lena’s talking points? Inconceivable.

 

Objectively, that was the worst negotiation Lena has ever led.

Subjectively, Lena’s body and mind are buzzing with events and consequences and kisses that stole her breath, and she knows, absolutely knows, that it’s far better than the cold feeling of satisfaction she’d have if everything went to plan.

But she doesn’t know what to do next. She always likes to have a plan, does Lena, but how could she have made a plan for this?

 

_Kara loves me back._

The thought shocks Lena back into her own skin, away from plots and calculations and ruined agendas.

_Kara loves me, and she knows I love her._

Lena smiles, to herself, all alone in her apartment, and touches her lips with gentle fingertips.

_Maybe I don’t need a good negotiation, in this one case. Maybe going off-track is exactly what I needed. Maybe…maybe I like Kara’s kind of calamity._

_Maybe, when she comes back, I can see if she likes **my** kind of cataclysm._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

So, in the brief time before Kara returns, Lena decides to discard the fragmented remnants of her plan and come up with something catastrophic. She stands up straight, marches to her kitchen, and makes herself a cup of jasmine tea.

Then she gets back to work.

By the time Kara flies back to her balcony, Lena has already initiated her next steps: some previously-planned, some spontaneous.

In the pre-planned category, Delphi’s hacking and search-and-identify programs, the Hermes program, and a very select group of folders have been isolated and extracted to some of her special drives for safe-keeping, as well as possibly useful and nefarious purposes. Currently, Delphi is running an overwrite protocol to erase every record, every image, and every piece of data linking Kara Danvers to Supergirl, so that it can be repurposed with Lena’s second-stage agenda in mind.

At the light thump on her balcony, Lena looks over and laughs when she sees the figure clad in red-and-blue sheepishly wave the former handle to her balcony door.

“Knock knock,” Kara mimes on the empty space.

“Come in, you’ve ensured that my doorway is always open to you, now,” Lena teases, “though I would have left it unlocked if only you asked. You didn’t have to bring that back, by the way.”

Kara carefully sets down her burden outside and steps into the apartment, shrugging as she says, “I honestly didn’t know what to do with it! Can you even recycle door glass?”

Lena shakes her head and gets up, walking over. Kara’s suit is a little scuffed, a streak of ash runs along one of her cheeks, but she’s intact and beautiful in the dimmed lights of Lena’s apartment. So is the big lipstick print on the opposite cheek, although the smears around her mouth have been wiped away.

“You look quite nice in my shade of red, Kara,” Lena purrs, a little surprised at how satisfied and possessive the mark makes her feel.

Kara crosses her arms, drawing herself up to her full height (which is quite impressive at the moment, as Lena is barefoot).

“You let me run off to a hostage situation with lipstick smeared all over my face. Alex was shocked that, and I quote, I’ve ‘given up on dating Lena as Kara Danvers and decided to seduce her as Supergirl instead’ exclamation point!”

Lena chuckles, placing a hand on Kara’s forearm, “I love how she assumes that you’re doing all the seducing, here. What’s a girl got to do to get credit for her natural animal magnetism?”

“Speaking of that,” Kara starts, and scoops Lena off her feet.

Lena squeaks in surprise and then scowls up at Kara’s victorious expression.

“You’re adorable,” Kara’s voice is insufferably smug, her face more so, as she walks Lena back over toward the couch. “Now, where were we?”

Lena remembers her plans and stiffens in Kara’s arms, “Kara, wait. It’s really late, too late to make out like teenagers on the couch.” She watches Kara’s face fall and, as the hero goes to put her down again, Lena strikes, “We’re grown women, so we should really do this in a real bed, don’t you think?”

Kara’s transfixed expression of confused wonder has Lena chuckling as she extricates herself and struts all the way to her bedroom door, careful to show off her ass.

Lena turns, smirking at the look on Kara's face as she stands exactly where Lena left her. "Coming, Kara?"

Lena doesn't even see the blur that sweeps her up and catapults them into her bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cataclysm just sounds kinda dirty, doesn’t it? Cataclysm.
> 
> All right, y'all did it, your comments really energized me to pour in some energy and hours to get this written and out to you tonight. If you liked reading this, and/or if you want to see more of it, please let me know! It means a lot to me and helps with the motivation to write. 
> 
> For instance, do you want to see what happens in the bedroom next, or should I keep this M-rated? 
> 
>  
> 
> Teaser for the future:
> 
> "I'm in love with a superhero who is, ostensibly, bulletproof."
> 
>  _"Ostensibly?!"_ Kara seems slightly offended, which is just delightful. She looks like an angry golden retriever (an oxymoron if Lena's ever heard one).
> 
> "Well, how many repeated trials did the DEO do? Science is regimented, repeated, validated. It's important! For instance, I still need to collect more data to say that Supergirl is significantly better in bed than anyone I've…studied before."
> 
> Kara is cluing into the game, Lena sees it in the playful attempt to quirk an eyebrow. They both quirk. _Awww._
> 
> "You don't say, more data is needed? Well we can't let your studies languish in obscurity for another moment!"
> 
> Kara scoops Lena up in the next instant, throwing her over a shoulder and marching off to the bedroom.
> 
> Lena flails, "Wait, you need to make sure the environment is exactly the same as it was the last time!"
> 
> Kara halts, "You mean, you want me to make the bed before I throw you on it again?"

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on the Twitter: [@SmugMischief](https://twitter.com/SmugMischief)


End file.
